


New Traditions

by madsydva



Series: Sherlockian Things Prompt Challenge [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Tree, Gen, Post-Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-01-24
Packaged: 2019-03-04 10:35:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13362837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsydva/pseuds/madsydva
Summary: Sherlock decides to decorate the flat for Christmas after Mrs. Hudson's nagging.





	New Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> This one of the December prompts for the Sherlockian Things Facebook group writing challenge. The prompt was The Perfect Tree.

Sherlock stood by the window tuning his violin in the early morning light. He had been composing a lot of the last few months, working hard on a piece for Rosie.

 

There was a knock at the door and a "Whoohoo." as Mrs. Hudson entered the flat with his morning tea.

 

"Good morning, Sherlock. I made some tea and thought you might like some." She sets the tray on his side table. Sherlock doesn't turn.

 

She clicks her tongue. "Christmas is in three days and you boys haven't decorated?"

 

"If you hadn't noticed, John does not live here anymore. He also expressed to me that he did not wish celebrate this year." Sherlock replied coolly.

 

"Oh, but it's Rosie's first. She's almost a year old. She'd be so lovely with all the lights and colors. And Father Christmas and you know how she loves your music. You could play her Jingle Bells..."

 

"THANK YOU, Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock says a little forcefully. "But John stated that he did not want to celebrate Christmas. I do not wish to cause him more anguish with Mary being gone."

 

Mrs. Hudson sighs. "Alright. But sometimes spending time with your loved ones and making new traditions helps you move past the grief of losing the old ones. And Rosie needs traditions of her own with the family that she has."

 

Sherlock began playing Rosie's piece without a reply. Mrs. Hudson retreated downstairs. 

 

Sherlock played for hours and his tea sat, growing ice cold. He thought about what Mrs. Hudson had said. Soon Rosie's piece morphed in God Rest Ye Merry Gentleman,  then Silent Night, and then Jingle Bells. He put his violin away in its case and went to his laptop. 

 

He spent the rest of the morning researching Christmas traditions when it came to a child's first. He researched Christmas trees and their ideal size and decoration. Then, confident with the data he had collected, he dressed and went out. 

 

The taxi stopped in front of Camden Garden Centre and Sherlock paid the cabbie and got out. He entered the garden shop, which had been one of the top results when he had searched online for "where to buy a Christmas tree in London".  He approached the young girl at the checkout.

 

"I wish to purchase a Christmas Tree." He said matter-of-factly.

 

"We have a few left in the green house." She said pointing behind him. He followed her pointing finger to a set of doors covered by plastic strip curtains. 

 

He entered the greenhouse to see no more than 20 trees, the majority of which looked sickly and dying. He went to each tree eliminating them one by one. Dying. Missing branches. Moldy. Too tall for the flat. Too small. Too dried out. Too sticky with sap. Too round. Flat on one side. Finally, he narrowed it down to three contenders. 

 

The first was a Nobel Fir. It had short needles that were a frosty green color. The sign attached boasted "a no-drop needle". It was about the same height as Sherlock and had a narrow girth.

 

The second was a Nordmann Fir. It's sign saying "Most Popular" and Russia listed as its place of cultivation. It had dark glossy green needles, that were shorter than the needles on the fir. It was taller than Sherlock, about 7 1/2 feet he estimated. 

 

The last was a dark green Fraser fir that was potted and not cut. It was about as tall as John and had fuller top branches than the others. It's sign read "Needle Retention: Excellent". 

 

After some internal debate, Sherlock decided that the Fraser Fir would be appropriate for Rosie. Small, full, excellent needle retention and potted so then Mrs. Hudson could keep it year round if she wished. He found a push trolley and carefully placed the tree on it and pushed it to the front. 

 

The girl at the checkout looked up from her magazine.

 

"I'd like this one." Sherlock announced.

 

She began punching in numbers on the cash register. "Do you need it delivered?" She asked.

 

"No. I'll be fine." Sherlock said.

 

"That'll be £59.99."

 

Sherlock pays and she wraps up the pot to keep the dirt from spilling. He takes the cart out to the street and hails a cab. When the cab rolls up, Sherlock approaches the driver's window.

 

"I've purchased a tree. We'll need to strap it to the roof." Sherlock tells the driver.

 

"What? Oh no way! You can have them deliver it ya know." The cabbie says.

 

"I'll not have them smashing up my god daughter's first Christmas tree. It comes with me." Sherlock says standing up. "If you don't want the fare, move along. Although, I was going to pay you to wait for me at the next stop. The girl lost her mother, she will have her Christmas." 

 

"Awww, alright, mate. You don't gotta add the sob story." The cabbie gets out and together they manage to get the tree strapped to the top of the cab with the twine provided for free in front of the garden centre. 

 

Sherlock gives the cabbie the address of the Christmas shop he researched online. Once there, Sherlock successfully picks out all of the items needed to decorate a traditional Christmas tree. Plus a few additional items for the flat.

 

The cabbie was still waiting for him when emerged from the shop. Sherlock piled into the cab with his purchases and they head back to Baker Street. 

 

The cabbie helped Sherlock get the tree down from the roof and left Sherlock standing among his bags and boxes from the Christmas shop. 

 

“Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock calls as he tries to get through the front door with the tree. He left it in the foyer and went back outside to collect the bags. When he got back into the foyer with the bags, Mrs. Hudson was coming out her door, wiping her hands on a tea towel. 

 

“Oh! Sherlock! What’s all this?” She claps  her hands, a big smile on her face. “Did John change his mind about Christmas?” 

 

“No, I did. I bought a tree for Rosie. I decided you were right.” Sherlock sets the bags down, out of breath. 

 

“That’s wonderful, Sherlock.” She runs her hands over the needles of the tree. “It’s lovely, Sherlock. Nice and full. John will love it.”

 

Sherlock bites his lip. “I hope so.” He let’s slip.

 

Mrs. Hudson gives him a teary eyed look. “Oh Sherlock!” She wraps her arms around his whole body, pining his arms in an awkward hug. She comes away dabbing her eyes with the tea towel. “Do you need me to do anything to help? Before I leave for my sisters tomorrow afternoon?”

 

Sherlock clears his throat a bit. “Maybe some of those shortbread biscuits for Rosie? And the chocolate ones that John likes.” 

 

Mrs. Hudson grins. “Oh yes! And the raspberry ones too!” I’ll make a whole batch up for you! You love the raspberry ones.” She heads off towards her kitchen to get started.

 

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson!” Sherlock calls after her. He manages to get the tree and all of his purchases up the seventeen steps to the flat. 

 

He picks the small place between the sofa and the window for the tree, clearing stacks of books and newspapers out of the way. He removes all of the decorations he bought at the shop from the bags and sets about decorating the tree. 

 

By the time the sun was fading over London, Sherlock was finished with the tree and hanging faerie lights in the windows. He stood back and admired his handy work before placing three small gifts under the tree, that had been waiting next to a medium sized one on the coffee table.

 

Sherlock flopped down into his chair pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket. He pulled up a blank message to John, staring at it a minute before typing it out.

 

Plans tomorrow afternoon? -SH

 

The response from John was almost instantaneous.

 

No. Case?

 

No, just thought you and Rosie might like to come for tea. -SH

 

Oh. Sure. What time?

 

4:00? -SH

 

Right. We’ll be there.

 

Sherlock spent the rest of the night perched on his chair deducing and collecting all of the possible ways John would react when he and Rosie arrived tomorrow evening. 

 

He didn’t even hear the next morning when Mrs. Hudson brought up some tea. He finally emerged from his thoughts around 10:00 am to find a cup of tea next to him, cold. He took a sip anyway and made a face. 

 

Mrs. Hudson came up a few hours later around 12:30 with the three batches of cookies on a large plate. She sets it on the kitchen table, pushing some remnants of an experiment out of the way. She makes a tsking sound and turns to Sherlock who was tuning his violin in front of the window.

 

“Sherlock, don’t you think you think you should clean up this mess before John and Rosie get here?”

 

“John did live here. For an extended period of time as I recall. He knows my habits.” He answers as he walks over to examine the plate.

 

“That’s why I suggested, Sherlock. Anyway, here are the biscuits for your party. I’m headed out to my sister’s now. The flat looks lovely.” She reaches out the squeeze his forearm. “Do you need anything else?”

 

“It’s not a party.” He answers stealing one of the raspberry thumbprint biscuits off the plate. “And, no Mrs. Hudson. Thank you, for the biscuits.” He leans down to give her a peck on the cheek. “Merry Christmas.”

 

She beams up at him, blushing a bit. “Oh, my boys. I’m sorry I’ll miss John. Give him and Rosie my love, won’t you?”

 

Sherlock nods. “I will.” Mrs. Hudson retreats back down the stairs. Sherlock pops the raspberry biscuits into his mouth as he makes his way to the bathroom. He stops short grabbing the bin, and scoops the mess from the table into it before heading into the bathroom for a shower.

 

He washes and then lets himself relax, sitting down and letting the water run over him. He must’ve fallen asleep because the water runs cold and he jolts awake. He shuts off the water quickly and gets out, shivering. He dresses quickly, putting on a dark green shirt and his best trousers, followed by his jacket.

 

When Sherlock reenters the living room, he clears a few stray newspapers off the coffee table and the floor. He goes to the kitchen to make sure there are at least two clean mugs. He realizes there’s not and removes his jacket and rolls up his sleeves to wash up the dishes. He made sure that Rosie’s spare sippy and bottle were clean for her as well. 

 

He takes time to clear the counters of stray experiment parts and laboratory supplies. When he finished, he looked at the clock on the kitchen wall and it read 3:26pm. He rebuttoned his sleeves and put his jacket back on before going back into the sitting room to wait for John and Rosie to arrive. 

 

Like clockwork, at 3:51pm, John shuffles through the door with a babbling Rosie. Sherlock can hear them struggling with the push chair, but he stays where he is until he hears them reach the landing at the top of the stairs. Sherlock darts to standing. 

 

John raps on the frame of the open door as Rosie toddles through the door. 

 

“You don’t have to knock, John. Rosie doesn’t.” 

 

Rosie reaches the coffee table and grips the edge, resting a minute, as John steps through the door, a little shyly. His eyes dart to the decorated tree in the corner and the faerie lights in the windows.

 

“You decorated for Christmas?” He says a little dumb struck as he sets Rosie’s bag on the floor under the coat rack.

 

Sherlock takes another step towards him, wringing his hands.

 

“Yes, Mrs. Hudson thought I ought to. She was being... helpful.” He corrected himself before saying something not good. The corner of John’s mouth turns up. “I know you said you didn’t want to celebrate this year but I thought... for Rosie.” Sherlock stumbles over his words a bit. “Are you angry?”

 

John smiles and takes the last steps towards Sherlock. He puts a hand on his arm. “No, I’m not angry, Sherlock. It’s...” They are interrupted by a thump and a rustle of the tree, followed by Rosie whimpering. They turn to see Rosie, sitting  flat on her bum in front of the tree. One of the silver balls rolled away from her. They both move to her and Rosie looks up at Sherlock with tears in her eyes. She points at the tree and babbles to him. Sherlock reaches to pick her up.

 

“What’s the matter, dear Watson? Is the tree not to your liking?” He asks. She huffs and rubs her eyes. Sherlock takes her to the kitchen for a biscuit while John replaces the runaway ball.

 

Sherlock puts the kettle on, carrying Rosie on his hip, who was munching happily on her shortbread biscuit. 

 

“Wow? You’ve cleaned up in here too? It really must be Christmas.” John says from the door way.

 

“I wanted the flat to be safe for, Rosie.” Sherlock says turning to look at him. “Mrs. Hudson made up a plate of biscuits before she left for her sisters. She made the chocolate ones you like. She sent her love, before she left this afternoon.”

 

John nods and picks a chocolate biscuit from the plate. “Oh she made the raspberry ones you like!”

 

“And shortbread for Rosie.” They say in unison. Sherlock grins and John chuckles, looking away. The kettle whistles and they both jump a bit. Sherlock starts to attempt to make the tea one handed with Rosie on his hip. John comes to stand next to him and takes the tea canister out of his hand. 

 

“I’ll make us some tea. Why don’t you and Rosie go into the sitting room? She has some toys in her bag.” John says. Sherlock gives him a small smile and adjusts Rosie on his hip. He grabs a raspberry biscuit on his way to the sitting room.

 

He grabs the throw blanket off the back of John’s chair, spreading it out on the floor in front of the coffee table. He sets Rosie in the middle of it and goes to fetch her bag from under the coat rack. He returns to Rosie’s side and sits cross legged next to her. She looks up at him with interest.

 

“Alright, Watson. What did your Father pack for you today?” He starts digging around in the bag shoving aside spare outfits and fresh nappies. 

 

He pulls out a small rubbery Giraffe (“That looks unsanitary.”), a set of pink and purple plastic teething keys (“Stereotypical.”), her plush rattle (“We will not be playing THAT game today, Watson.”), and finally the plush bumblebee that he bought for her at the toy shop. Rosie claps and gurgles when he pulls it out of the bag. He smiles as he hands it to her.

 

John enters the sitting room with the tea tray and sets it on the coffee table. He had made Rosie a cup of juice and put a few of each of the biscuits on the tray. Sherlock stands and joins John on the sofa.

 

Sherlock takes a sip of his tea. “Mmm. It always tastes better when you make it.” He says. John blushes a bit.

 

Rosie notices that she’s by herself and takes a moment to stand, carrying her bumblebee to the coffee table to trade for another shortbread biscuit and her juice cup. John hands over her sippy and she plops down on her behind, leaving the bee on the table.

 

“John, I know you said you didn’t want to fuss over Christmas or gifts this year. But Mrs. Hudson said that a baby’s first Christmas is an important traditional milestone. So I purchased a few things for you and Rosie.” Sherlock picks up the medium octagon shaped gift on the table and hands it to John. “This ones for both of you.” 

 

“You didn’t have to do all of this for us, Sherlock.” John says as Sherlock goes around the table to retrieve Rosie, sitting back down next to John, balancing her on his lap. 

 

“I know, but it’s important for Rosie to have traditions... with her family.” Sherlock  says with a small smile. John nods and starts ripping the wrappings off the package. He opens to find a plaster mold handprint ornament kit.

 

“I thought you might like to make a handprint ornament with Rosie. The shop attendant assured me that it was a tradition that many people do on their child’s first Christmas. Though, I’m not sure why.” Sherlock says knitting his brows. John chuckles and starts opening the box to the kit.

 

“Because that way we can remember how small she was. I love it. Thank you.” He smiles at Sherlock as he pulls the mold and the bag of plaster mix out of the box. “Want to help me mix the plaster?”

 

“Alright.” Sherlock agrees. John hops up with the kit and goes into the kitchen. Sherlock follows him, carrying Rosie. Sherlock sets Rosie on the counter with her legs hanging over the end of the counter. John lays out all the supplies and reads the directions out loud. 

 

“In a medium mixing bowl, mix the contents of the plaster mix bag with 250mL of water. Stir until blended.” John dumps the powdered plaster mix into the bowl as Sherlock grabs a beaker out of the cupboard above him and hands it to John to fill in the sink. He returns with the 250mL of water and pours it into the bowl, mixing it with a cereal spoon.

 

“Next, pour the plaster mix into the mold and let it sit for 15 minutes.” John reads, then sets the alarm on his watch for 15 minutes. “What should we do while we wait?”

 

“We could open the other presents?” Sherlock suggests, handing Rosie back to John.

 

“The other presents?” John asks, sitting back on the sofa. Sherlock retrieves the three gifts from under the tree. “Sherlock, we didn’t get you anything.” 

 

“The point of gift giving is to give and not expect anything in return,  is it not?” Sherlock says a little confused.

 

“It is. But it doesn’t make the receiver feel any more obligated.” John gives him a crooked smile.

 

“I don’t expect anything in return. I wanted to do this for Rosie... and for you.” Sherlock hands John the first package. “This one is for you, John.”

 

Sherlock sits quietly while John rips the wrappings off. He opens the little box to find a glass antique doctor’s bag ornament.

 

 

John smiles brightly at Sherlock.

 

“It’s wonderful!” He beams. 

 

Sherlock hands him the second package. “This is for Rosie.”

 

John sets his ornament on the coffee table and takes the second box. 

 

“Alright, Rosie. Shall we see what Sherlock’s got for us?” John asks Rosie, who had been quietly sitting in his lap. He opens the wrappings in front of her, and opens the box to find a repurposed magnifying glass. It had a hand stamped metal tag that read Rosie’s First Christmas 2016. It had a pink ribbon to hang it on the tree.

 

“Is this a magnifying glass?” John asks lifting it up to the light. 

 

“Yes. Repurposed, I believe is what the shop attendant said.” Sherlock says with a thin smile.

 

“Whadda ya say Rosie? Should we hang our ornaments on the tree?” John asks, bouncing Rosie on his knee a bit. He takes Rosie’s ornament out of its box and stands with her moving over to the tree. 

 

While John and Rosie hang her ornament on the tree, Sherlock quickly rips into the third wrapped box. John hears the ripping and looks over as Sherlock takes the last ornament out of its box. 

 

“What’s that?” 

 

“Oh I bought it for myself. I thought maybe we all needed one for the tree. The attendant insisted on wrapping it.” Sherlock shrugs, holding up a copper violin.

 

 

 

“It’s perfect.” John tells him. Sherlock blushes a bit picks up John’s doctor’s bag ornament and hands it to him to hang on the tree. Sherlock moves to John’s side and they hang their ornaments next to Rosie’s on the tree. They stand back and admire the tree with the three new ornaments on it. 

 

Rosie was squirming so John sets her down and she toddles back to the table, grabbing the wrappings from the presets and shakes them about. John smiles as he watches her and then looks back at Sherlock, who’s was watching him.

 

“I know it’s not much, John, but I...”

 

“No, Sherlock.” John cuts him off by grabbing his forearm. “It’s great. It’s wonderful. I know I said I didn’t want to do anything this year, but I’m glad you asked us to come over. I was not having a good day yesterday. And you’re right,” he looks down at Rosie again, “it’s important for Rosie to have traditions.”

 

Sherlock smiles a bit and is about to say something in return when the alarm on John’s watch goes off. 

 

“Time to finish the ornament.” John says, startled. Sherlock grabs Rosie up off the floor and follows John into the kitchen. 

 

“Alright now we can press her hand into the mold.” John says, reading the instructions again. Sherlock goes to hand Rosie to him. “Why don’t you hold her, then I can press her hand down.” John says. Sherlock gives him a blank look. “Just turn her around and hold her around the middle.” John says with a smile.

 

Sherlock does as instructed and together they press Rosie’s hand down onto the wet plaster. She squirms and Sherlock has to hold her tighter. She pouts a little when the plaster squishes between her fingers. John lifts her hand up and she looks at the plaster on her hand and then holds it higher for Sherlock to see. She grunts and then babbles.

 

“Yes, I see, Watson. Messy. Let’s get you rinsed off.” Sherlock walks her over the the sink and rinses her hand under the tap. Sherlock let’s her splash a bit before turning the tap off. 

 

He turns to see John, watching them, holding a tea towel. Sherlock steps forward and John uses the towel to dry Rosie’s hands. 

 

“Now we just have to wait for it to harden.”  John takes Rosie from Sherlock and sets her down on the floor. “I don’t guess you have anything in, do you?” Sherlock gives him a blank look.

 

“Do you think that Thai place we used to order from is still open on Christmas Eve?” John says pulling out his phone.

“I believe they are, yes. They were last year, if you recall.” Sherlock adds the last bit quietly. John had been here on Christmas Eve last year. He had stayed with Sherlock for a few months after he had been shot... by Mary. John had gone back to stay with Mary after they returned from the Holmes family Christmas.

“Oh, is that where you ordered from?” John says a bit distantly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Do you still like the Green Curry?”

Sherlock nods. “Mmm.” He goes back into the sitting room in search of Rosie. He found her sitting on the throw blanket on the floor, shoving the wrapping paper from the presents in her mouth.

“No, no, Watson, that’s not for eating.” He bends over to take away the soggy paper. Rosie grunts when he takes it away, then looks up at him with teary eyes.

“No!” Rosie says loudly. “No! ‘ock, No!”

All the color drains from Sherlock’s face as he stands up straight. “John...” he whispers, panicked, then louder, “John!”

John steps into the sitting room putting his phone in his shirt pocket. “What? What is it?”

“Rosie spoke.” Sherlock says turning to John with a wide eyed look.

“What?” John chuckles out. “What did she say?”

“She said my name.”

“She couldn’t have.” John crouches down next to Rosie, who still had tears in her eyes. “What is it, love?”

Rosie points firmly at Sherlock and says, “No! ‘ock No!” She huffs and sniffs.

“See!” Sherlock almost shouts.

John picks her up and stands, smirking at Sherlock. “You must’ve really made her mad.”

“I took the wrapping paper from her because she was trying to eat it.”

John looks at Rosie. “Sherlock’s right, you know. You can’t eat the wrappings from the presents.” Rosie huffs out through her nose.

“Here, you two better work it out.” John says passing Rosie to Sherlock. Sherlock has a stricken look on his face and Rosie does not look pleased. “The Thai will be here in 25 minutes. I’m going to pop down to Mrs. Hudson’s to grab Rosie’s high chair.” He says digging in his coat pocket for his keys, where he still carried the spare key to Mrs. Hudson’s flat.

Rosie spots the wrappings still in Sherlock’s hand and lunges for them. Sherlock holds it out of her reach as he walks into the kitchen to toss it in the bin. He closes the bin lid and Rosie lets out a frustrated grunt.

“No, ‘ock, NO!” She repeats, her eyes tearing up. Sherlock panics and grabs a shortbread biscuit off the plate on the table, handing to her. Rosie gives a semi-contented sigh as she shoves the biscuit into her mouth.

Sherlock walks with Rosie back into the sitting room and sets her in John’s armchair. He gets his violin out of its case and starts to play Jingle Bells for her, humming along as he rocks in front of her. Rosie gurgles happily as she watches him, sucking on her biscuit. Just as he reaches the end of the song, John lumbers up the stairs with Rosie’s high chair, going through the kitchen door to set it up next to the table.

John enters the sitting room to see Sherlock tuning his violin, plucking the stings and turning the pegs ever so slightly.

“Are you going to play some carols for us, then?” John asks with a crooked smile.

“I just played Jingle Bells for Rosie.”

“Did you sing?”

Sherlock scoffs. “No, I hummed.”

“You’re the one instilling tradition. You have to teach her the words.” John says picking Rosie up to sit on the chair with her on his lap.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, putting the instrument under his chin.

“Alright, then, go on, from the beginning.” John instructs.

Sherlock sighs but then starts in on the beginning of Jingle Bells again. John turns Rosie to face him, standing her on his knees. He starts to sing along with Sherlock’s playing, bouncing her a bit.

“Dashing through the snow, in a one horse open sleigh, o’re the fields we go, laughing all the way, HAHAHAHA.” John bounces her higher on that part and she squeals.

“That’s not in the actual lyrics of the song, John.” Sherlock says as he continues to play.

“...ring, making spirits bright.... that is how it goes, and she liked it..... sleighing song tonight! Oh! Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells! Jingle all the way....” John stands up with Rosie on his hip and bounces her around the room, singing and poking her in the stomach, making Rosie giggle. Sherlock watches them and the corners of his mouth turn up.

“Oh what fun it is to ride in a one horse open sleigh! Hey!” John belts out the last line, throwing his free arm out. Rosie squeals and cackles. John turns to face Sherlock, who lowers his instrument, smiling widely at them.

“Oh look at that, we’ve made Sherlock smile. Take a look Rosie, it doesn’t happen very often.” John says, stage whispering into Rosie’s ear. Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically as he puts the violin and bow down in his chair. John grins at Rosie as he turns to take her into the kitchen.

John straps her into her high chair and gives her another shortbread biscuit to entertain her while they wait for the food to arrive. Sherlock enters the kitchen carrying Rosie’s sippy, just as the door buzzed.

“That’ll be the food.” John says taking the cup from him.

“I’ll go down and get it.” Sherlock says with a nod and he disappears through the door to the landing. John pulls out two plates and some forks for them and Sherlock returns a few moments later with the bag of takeout.

Sherlock starts tearing into the bag and pulling out containers. Green Shrimp Curry for Sherlock, Ginger Chicken for John, Pad Thai noodles (no spicy sauce) for Rosie and and order of Spring Rolls for them to share.

John starts spooning out some noodles for Rosie onto her high chair tray, while Sherlock starts digging into his curry straight from the container with his fingers.

“Rice?” John asks dishing some out onto both plates.

“Mmm.” Sherlock’s reply as he noisily sucks curry sauce off his fingers. He dumps the paper bag upside down scattering sauce packets, fortune cookies and chop sticks across the table. Sherlock grabs a set of chop sticks and starts scooping his curry on to the plate of rice John had slid across to him.

John watches him as he taps a spoonful of rice on to Rosie’s tray and she grabs a handful stuffing it into her mouth. He spoons some of his Garlic Chicken onto his own rice as he watches Sherlock shovel food into his mouth with more gusto than he’d seen in years.

“Sherlock, when was the last time you ate anything?” John asks.

Sherlock slows his chewing and looks up at John. “I’ve had three of Mrs. Hudson’s biscuits and some cold tea today.”

John twists his mouth. “And yesterday?”

Sherlock makes a thoughtful face. “I...was busy with all of this yesterday.” He says gesturing towards the sitting room. “I... forgot...”

John frowns and pokes at his food.

Sherlock looks up at him. “John, you shouldn’t worry about me. You have Rosie to care for now.”

“But I do... worry about you, Sherlock.” John says shoving some chicken around on his plate.

“I’m not a child. I can take of myself.” Sherlock huffs.

“But you don’t.” John cuts in. “Sometimes you don’t sleep or eat for days. When was the last time you slept?”

“I had a nap in the shower today....” Sherlock avoids John’s eyes.

“And before that?”

Sherlock doesn’t answer and John lets out an exasperated sigh.

“If you’re so concerned, John maybe you should...” Sherlock snaps his mouth shut.

“Maybe I should what?” John asks looking up at him. “Start coming round more?”

“You’re always welcome here. You and Rosie.” Sherlock spills out. He looks down at his plate, poking at his curry.

“Maybe we should then, come round more. I know Mrs. Hudson misses me.”

“We both do.” Sherlock still doesn’t look at him.

John gives him a small smile and stabs a piece of chicken. Rosie pounds on her tray and shrieks because no ones paying to her.

“Don’t scream, Rosie, Love, eat your noodles.” John uses his fork to push her noodles towards her on the tray.

Sherlock takes a few more bites before picking up his plate and taking it to the sink. John joins him at the sink to rinse his own plate.

“Now what?” John asks taking Rosie’s tray off to get her cleaned up.

“Hmm?” Sherlock looks at him a little confused as he hands him a damp rag to wipe up Rosie’s hands and face.

“It’s your party. What now?” John wipes up Rosie and let’s her down from her chair. She toddles out into the sitting room.

“It’s not a party.” Sherlock mumbles.

John grins at him. “Sure it is, we had gifts and food. A party. We could see if there’s any Christmas specials on the telly.”

Sherlock twists his mouth. A muffled cry comes from the sitting room. They enter to find Rosie sitting on the throw blanket, rubbing her eyes.

“She’s getting sleepy. She didn’t have much of a nap today.” John says picking her up.

Sherlock looks down at his hands. “You should take her home then. So she can rest.”

“Or I could put her down here? If you don’t mind. She’ll sleep anywhere.”

“She takes after her Father.” Sherlock says the corner of his mouth turning up. John smiles as he carries her over to the sofa, fishing her pacifier out of her bag on the way by. He lays her down and tucks the Union Jack throw pillow into her side, to keep her from rolling off the sofa. She fusses a bit, and John pats her stomach.

Sherlock appears at the end of the sofa, his violin under his chin. He starts playing the piece he had been working on for Rosie. John smiles softly up at him and then back down at Rosie, who was rubbing her face, fighting sleep. John gives her a kiss on the forehead before getting up to start a fire.

Sherlock plays through the piece twice before Rosie is sound asleep. He goes over to the fire and their chairs where John is waiting for him with a tumbler of whisky.

“Sound asleep.” Sherlock reports, taking the glass.

“If I would’ve known it was that easy, I would’ve had you over every night.” John jokes.

Sherlock freezes a bit as he puts his instrument in its case. “I tried to help, you know... after. But you didn’t want me... my help, I mean.” He says stiffly.

“I know... I’m sorry for that.” John says softly. “For all of it. I never said...”

“You don’t have to.” Sherlock says standing to face John again.

“But I should have. I am sorry, Sherlock.” John says catching his eye.

“As am I, John.”

John gives him a soft smile and sits back in his armchair. Sherlock sits, too, taking a sip of his whisky. They sit in silence for a while, enjoying the warmth from the fireplace.

“What was that you were playing for her? Was that something you wrote?” John asks looking over to check on Rosie.

“I’ve been working on it for her.” Sherlock says following John’s eyes to Rosie. “For both of you....All of you.” He adds. John darts his eyes back to Sherlock as he continues. “It’s has notes of the waltz I composed for you and Mary.” Sherlock glances at John and meets his eyes before dropping his gaze to his glass. “It’s not finished yet.”

“It was lovely. I’m sure she’ll come to appreciate it as she gets older.” John takes a sip of his whisky. Sherlock gives him a shy smile. “This is nice. It’s been a while since we just sat. Enjoyed each others company.” John says taking another sip of whisky.

“It is.” Sherlock swirls his glass and takes a sip.

“Thank you for this. I needed to get out of that house. Sometimes... it’s still...hard.” John says looking into the fire.

Sherlock looks up at him, then. “I meant what I said before. You and Rosie are always welcome here, when things get too difficult or even when they’re not. This is your home, too.”

John gives him a soft smile. “Thank you, Sherlock. Baker Street will always be my home.”

Sherlock nods and smiles into his whisky as he takes a sip. “Merry Christmas, John.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> The Camden Garden Centre is a real place and they do offer Christmas Tree delivery to the greater London area:  
> http://www.camdengardencentre.co.uk
> 
> http://christmastreesdelivered.co.uk
> 
> I found the ornaments online. Links for your shopping pleasure:
> 
> Doctor's Bag:  
> https://www.walmart.com/ip/Old-World-Christmas-Medical-Doctor-s-Bag-Glass-Ornament-36084-Doctor-FREE-BOX/
> 
> Magnifying Glass:  
> https://www.etsy.com/listing/456564970/babys-first-christmaspersonalized-1st
> 
> And the violin:  
> https://www.fairindigo.com/pilgrim-imports-violin-fair-trade-ornament.html?gclid=EAIaIQobChMImr-3v-ar2AIVjLjACh0c7QmXEAQYASABEgIFTfD_BwE


End file.
